Bloodshed
by penstr0ke
Summary: Through ties, trials, and tribulations, the closest of friendships are forged in the crucibles of despair. Quinn & Yasuo (most likely will be M in the future).
1. Chapter 1

Again and again. One by one. More shurikens and daggers were cutting the air at impossible speeds, but they were but the simplest task to dodge. Again. A hooded man seeking justice darted out from behind a shadowy dune, garbed in night blue accentuated by the sibilant silver gleams from his blades. One after another, these justice seekers. What kind of twisted justice are they seeking? The man tumbled, backlashing with a spinning shuriken. Easily dodged. Pathetic. Insulting. The assassin leaped, revealing an arsenal of blades under his sinister coat. He reached in, lining his knuckles with an impressive array of blades, the only light visible in the dark night sky.

"Disgraceful sinner!" the assassin shouted in the winds, spinning and releasing the shining metal towards his target. The blades danced in the air, slicing through the sandstorm. Yet not the target. The swordsman, with great agility, dashed through the rain of metal completely unscathed. With an unseeable uppercut, he slashed through the air with such impossible force, the very air that surrounded the assassin turned into a weapon against him. The assassin was covered in cuts and tears in his entire lower body, causing him to stumble to the ground. The swordsman dashed through him with a clean flash of steel, decapitating him with a single blow. Another day in the life of regret.

The moonlight glimmered on the piece of tainted steel, blood dripping from the tip of the blade into the sand below him, staining the ground a deep crimson, each drop sinking into the sand like heavy rain. The swordsman sat down and laid his sword on the dead assassin's body, observing the callous act. He pulled the dark night hood over the decapitated head, in a futile attempt at respecting the fallen. The swordsman picked up his sword, and with a flourish, swept off all of the blood and sheathed it. Uttering a quick Ionian prayer, he got up and began walking back eastward, towards the city-state of Noxus. The place where he will finalize his relentless pursuit. Or at least hope to.

"The story of this sword..." he muttered, his eyes averted to the bloody, guilty steel in its sheath. How many lives had it ended in Ionia's futile bounty on his head? Hundreds? Possibly even thousands? Betraying his elder, his nation, his people, his own comrades, and even their innocent families... including his own. He thought of the families of the fallen, receiving news that the bloody traitor had slain their parents, leaving them lonely and scarred for the rest of their lives. And to what avail? Killing his own people to prove to his own people he wasn't a murderer? An oxymoronic, paradoxial act in it's own sense, but it went above his reputation. It now became his purpose to keep breathing, as he knows of no place to call home anymore. All that's left is his sword, and his honor.

Yes. Everytime the lone swordsman doubted himself, these words rang in his head to remind him of his purpose. His reason to live, and to fight. His hypocritical purpose, and his relentless pursuit to fulfill it.

The night dragged on. The sandstorm outside Mogron Pass had let up a bit, but it still raged on alive as ever. He must be nearing the Institute. Rustling of weed, sand and earth filled the raspy desert air as he trekked on, eyes closed in order to heighten his hearing senses and avoid getting sand in them. He knew this area far too well. And it's not as if he could see anything in this dark, barren wasteland anyway.

The extremely bright beacons of light beaming out of the Institute became visible, as well as the sounds of what sounded to be an ongoing match. The familiar blue and purple pillars of light became the brightest lights in the night sky. Even miles away, he could hear chanting of the announcers and spectators alike, cheering on the match. He wondered if he would ever take place in such a match.

As he passed the Institute onwards to his destination, he wondered what conflict was being settled, and immediately hoped it didn't involve Ionia or Noxus. He couldn't afford to be caught in a crossfire.

It was almost dawn already, and he noticed had gotten no sleep in the past two nights. Even though he was miraculously still in prime fighting condition, he decided he needed some rest, even if just for a fleeting moment. Big plans were ahead, and he couldn't afford to take any breaks behind enemy lines. Tough enemy lines.

He located a flat bedding in a mountain to the south, next to the Pass and climbed to it. Pulling out a scrap of cloth used as some makeshift sheet, he unrolled it and laid down. He fumbled around for his small knapsack, and quickly lit a match to create a fire for a very quick moment to get a look at his surroundings should he be attacked. He promptly blew out the match to avoid catching any attention.

Ten seconds later, it seemed that fleeting moment was too much. An arrow pierced the ground just a foot from him, jolting him upright and unsheathing his sword like it was a natural body function. Well, at this point, it was. A body jumped down from another flat holding in the mountain, gracefully landing without making too loud of a sound. A screech of what sounded to be an eagle rang out above him, causing him to frantically search for his attackers.

"Who?" the swordsman shouted into the night. He lit another match and threw it on the ground, revealing the immediate area around him. To his surprise, it was neither an Ionian nor Noxian assassin. Instead, it was a raven-haired woman, whose origins he could not discern, clad in a leathery attire modeled after the rare Demacian eagle. She wielded a lightweight crossbow, adorned in golden wings. Her golden eyes pierced through the swordsman, brilliant in the light of the fire. She wore a tired, yet battle-hardened expression on her face.

"You're not Noxian," she muttered as she observed the swordsman. He merely shook his head, not lowering his guard for a moment. "Why are you here? This is Noxian territory."

The swordsman frowned. "You're not Noxian either," he stated grimly. "So why don't you tell me why you're questioning me, and why you're here?" he stabbed back. She raised an eyebrow.

"It's rude to make a woman introduce herself first."

"This isn't a place where etiquette means half a shit, is it?" She smirked at this.

"Fair enough. My name's Quinn," she said as she whistled for an eagle to perch on her falconer glove. "This is Valor. We're scouting this newly acquired Noxian territory for our army back home; looking for an assassin," she said, motioning in the general west. Must be Demacian. "And you?"

"Yasuo. I'm... Ionian," he revealed with a tone of regret. Silence took over as he gathered his thoughts. He hasn't spoken with anyone in a very, very long time. "Or, I was. I've been exiled."

Quinn sat down near the match. "For?"

Yasuo sighed. He hated talking about his past, given his devotion of his life to erase it. But he had been so deprived of non-violent human interaction for so long, he made an exception. As long as she wasn't an enemy, which she didn't appear to be so far. At least, he'd keep it short. Not too many details.

"I was framed for a murder. Now, every Ionian is out for my blood. I'm seeking vengeance in Noxus." He sat down and sheathed his sword, leaning back on his arms. He lit another match, as the light was too dim to see the other. He sighed. "I've killed hundreds, maybe thousands of my own people. I've even killed..." he trailed off, memories of Yone rushing back like reality.

Quinn bit her lip. "Sorry to hear," she sympathized. "I've lost so many close to me as well. It's depressing, the tragedies we, as humans, have to face." Her expression had turned solemn as she averted her golden eyes to the ground, saddened. "I wonder how many hearts have been broken by war..."

Yasuo looked up to see her almost on the verge of tears, and immediately looked back down. "Nothing compares to the heartbreak of losing those close to you." He didn't mention his brother, slain by his own hand. "I've brought upon that heartbreak to countless families. There's no way I can be forgiven."

"What do you fight for?" Quinn asked. Yasuo froze, unsure of his own answer.

"I would say redemption, but it's a bit too late for that." He paused, noticing Quinn's gaze locked on him, seemingly interested. "Whether I prove myself innocent or not of the first murder, I'm still guilty a thousand times over for the thousands of murders I've completed after." The words echoed in his mind again.

"I'm shedding blood in order to not waste the blood that has already been shed. It's too late to do anything else." Quinn smiled.

"Good answer," she commended. "I respect that. You're living for a reason, unlike a lot of the people in this forsaken world. I too, fight for some sort of vengeance, but I'll never get it." Yasuo looked up at her. She stood up, looking off into the distance. "You'll learn someday, that no matter how much you fight - fight and fight again - you won't cleanse your sins through bloodshed. In fact, you won't even come damned close. That's just how war works. We're all the defeated. You just have to accept it sometimes, and just move on." A tear rolled down her eye, remembering her brother.

"Whose loss are you 'moving on' from?" Yasuo questioned. Quinn looked back down at him, sadness in her eyes. She took a deep breath.

"I wanted to be a knight one day, fighting on the front lines for glory, honor, and triumph in the name of our nation. It was a promising life. My brother and I both wanted to pursue it. Day after day, we'd spend endless hours adventuring and training in hopes of one day joining the army together, and fighting for real on the same battlefield together. But one day, my brother was killed while we were in a wilderness forest in our own motherland." Yasuo's heart dropped. He wasn't alone. "It may have been my own fault... I shouldn't have left him alone. I'll never even know how he died... Ever since that day, I've given up on fighting as a knight. I think I fight for the same reason you do. I'm killing to end the killing. War is a plague that needs to stop spreading." He couldn't help but agree.

She walked over to Yasuo, reaching out her hand to him. "You're not so bad. Stick around with me to Noxus, it's uncharted territory here and we could both help each other out."

He was reluctant, but for the first time since he left Ionia in exile, he felt he had someone he could trust. Someone who knows his anguish and acknowledges his sins. Someone he can share the pain with. Maybe this could work out after all.


	2. Chapter 2

Yasuo dragged along, still tired, but still alert as ever, the stranger in front of him and the always-present threat of attackers keeping him on his toes. Dawn was arriving, and with it, the rising sun illuminated a crescent of morning light, barely peeking over the hills, painting the Valoran desert sky a fresh blue, the horizon on the mountains still tinted with smooth orange hues. This part of the day was easily his favorite, as early morning sunrises had a tranquil peace unmatched by anything he knew; it brought upon a unique kind of solace that he grew to love, to depend upon for serenity. It was the most beautiful and picturesque scene imaginable, and he relished in every moment of it.

"It's so strange how war and sadness can exist in such a beautiful world," he mused, staring towards the horizon.

"Hm?" Quinn looked at Yasuo, then the glowing sky. "Oh, yeah, I think about that a lot too. We take for granted the world we were given, that's why."

Yasuo nodded, completely agreeing with her. He didn't know such pure minds existed outside of Ionia. Demacia, Noxus, and even the Freljord have been so engrossed with warmongering that he couldn't believe anyone from those nations couldn't be corrupted through belligerent propaganda and violence. She didn't seem like she stayed in the homeland much though, either. That must account for some of it, he figured.

The eagle let out a piercing screech, surprising Yasuo and even Quinn. She raised her glove to allow Valor to take flight from atop it, a flurry of loose feathers floating to the ground as the bird soared into the early morning air. He hovered for a bit, looking around, and with a loud squawk, zoomed past the hill in front of the two and landed on it. As Quinn and Yasuo followed him, they peeked over the hill and noticed a small village a quarter of a mile off, which must have been a Noxian outpost.

There were a number of dark houses emitting an ominous atmosphere, but seemingly not armed or militaristic in fashion, but knowing Noxus, he would be damned if there weren't any soldiers occupying the houses. Being so far off from the main city, there was no way Noxus would leave any bit of their land undefended. But even so... it seemed eerily empty.

"See anyone up there?" Quinn asked as the bird perched back upon her shoulder. No response, which probably meant a no. Yasuo wondered how anyone could communicate with animals, no matter how intelligent they may be. It didn't really seem possible. "I'm going to check inside to see if there's any intel or anyone hiding out. Coming?"

"Nothing else to do," he shrugged. She nodded, breaking into a low trot as she made towards the outpost. Yasuo followed in close trail, keeping an eye on his peripheral for assassins, whether they be coming for him or Quinn. The sun had started to peek over the mountains, the more recognizable morning daylight overcoming the dawn. The sand underneath them began to glow. He began to feel a warmth from the sun as they approached the outpost.

The houses were dark and intimidating, made of black stone and nondescript windows and metal to accentuate it. They seemed occupied, as even looking through the windows at a distance, they could see various furnishings and bookshelves. Dust clouds swept through the outpost, uplifted rocks and heavy sand clashing into the metal that rang a sharp clang in his ear.

But other than that, it was absolutely dead silence. He was quickly reminded of the quiet night at the village as war raged on just outside the borders, and his temptations getting the best of him, ultimately causing his accidental betrayal and the biggest whirlwind of his life. It was incredible how a single action can shape your future in unimaginably catastrophic ways. He sighed, the sound but a whisper in the raging desert air.

Quinn furtively halted her run into a crouch as she reached what was the highest building in the small village, seemingly the hub of interaction in whatever purpose the outpost served. It was a taunting house with a small castle-like pillar attached to the side, dark as the night and uninviting as death. The lights weren't lit inside, and scattered paperwork was littered all over a desk alongside manila folders. It had to be something that Quinn was looking for.

She signaled him to stay close as she approached the door cautiously, expertly and swiftly picking the lock with a strip of metal she had fashioned for the job in her pocket. Twisting the knob and sneaking inside, she looked around the corners as Valor darted upstairs, his wings barely making a flutter. They seemed used to this, Yasuo observed. Even so, the air in the room was very tense. The walls were painted a night black with the only light source in the room being the blistering sun outside, and an eerie candle near the paperwork, which seemed deceptively inviting.

Without a noise, Valor swept back down, reportedly finding nothing of interest in the cellar room above them. Quinn nodded, giving the room a final sweep before attending to the paperwork. She flipped through all of the intel rather quickly. Must be a fast reader.

Yasuo brought his voice to a whisper. "Anything?"

"Shh," she merely countered, tirelessly flipping through the papers. All she found were kill confirmations of a mercenary assassin - his targets included everyone, even troublesome Noxians. There were at least 50 kill confirmation files just on the last two months. She scanned the victims for mention of a Demacian official that was slain by a Noxian assassin, but she couldn't find him. This didn't seem to be her target. She laid down the paper where she found them, turning around to head out the door.

"Well?" he demanded, annoyed at her secrecy. Quinn raised an eyebrow.

"Whoever this guy is, he could have been it, but I couldn't find the specific target I'm looking for," she explained. She began to walk out the door, annoyed. "Figures there would be nothing left in this worthless-"

Valor cried out as the slashing of metal into flesh cut her off, as blood splattered on the floor right under where the ranger was about to fall.

Yasuo's heart jumped, his blood suddenly pumping with adrenaline. By instinct, he drew his sword with such quick elegance it cut the air around it. He took position, ready to fend off an expected attack. Valor tore through the air at an impossible speed, dodging another flung blade and slashing the attacker with his claws, dripping blood as he circled around to strike again as his screech echoed through the room.

Yasuo leapt from his stationary position towards where Valor had marked the attacker. He forced the assassin into the dim candlelight, yet still barely visible under his midnight purple robes, adorned with steel. He smiled, drawing a sword and rushing at Yasuo. Easily predicting his movement, Yasuo parried upwards and overpowered the assassin, causing him to recoil as he repositioned. Yasuo took the window of opportunity and aimed to thrust him through the chest, but he recovered much faster than expected.

The assassin stepped back with a flash of speed and launched four shurikens directly at Yasuo. He foresaw this, and leapt to the right to dodge it. Before he knew it, the assassin chuckled lightly and thrust his arm to the left, forcing the blades to his will, two razors slashing into Yasuo's arm as he cried out in pain. The blades must have been attached, as he pulled his arm back, withdrawing the shurikens. Brandishing his armblade, he took a leaping position and disappeared in a blink, appearing behind the wounded swordsman with the blade at his throat. He locked Yasuo in a chokehol and he brought a dagger to his neck. Hearing a quick flap of wings, Yasuo knew he had to act now or it may cost him his life.

He elbowed the assassin in the stomach, causing him to tumble back in recoil as Valor once more struck the man, this time on his neck, forcing a shrill cry. His blade grazed Yasuo's right leg as he fell, causing both of them to fall to the ground in agony. Yasuo caught his breath, picking up his fallen blade with his unwounded arm, recovering and barely walking with searing pains to the assassin to finish him off. But before he knew it, the assassin released a storm of blades into the air in a cloud of purple smoke, concealing the entire room. Yasuo desperately slashed to his right and behind him, fearing for another ambush attempt.

As the smoke cleared, the door was flung open, revealing a man hobbling away, already having cleared about a quarter mile, a trail of blood marking his footsteps. And near the doorway, a fallen ranger.

Valor squawked, rushing over to her, frantically screeching to Yasuo for help. Holding on to the tear in his leg, he crawled over to Quinn as the sunlight that now shone through the doorway gave good vision of their wounds. Before tending to himself, he decided to tend to the fallen. The knife was lodged a few inches left of her spine, and while he couldn't determine the length of the blade, he doubt it had compromised any organs and hoped it was a flesh wound. She observed her vital signs, and they were all positive except for the fact that she was out cold. He tore off a considerable scrap of the blue cloth on his shoulders, and fashioned it into a bandage. Valor watched on helplessly.

Yasuo slowly and carefully unlodged the knife from her back, throwing it to the side as he quickly patched up the tear with the cloth. The dagger's blade was only about 4 inches long, so he doubt any permanent damage would be done. She must have fainted from shock, if anything.

He tried speaking to the bird. "She'll be all right," he assured.

Crimson leaked through and stained the cloth as Yasuo slowly got up to look around for padding for his own wounds. He settled on using the rope around his waist as a tourniquet to appease the gash on his leg as he sat down at the table of paperwork, and waited for the Demacian to wake up. He felt that her bird would relentlessly hunt him down if he left, and he was in no condition to fight. So he just stay put for the first, well-deserved rest in a long time.

After all, he was done abandoning allies.


	3. Chapter 3

Vision was a blur, reality apparently distorted and wavy. A crimson haze tinted the surreal image as it faded in and out of focus. An assassin, another near-death experience, and... loneliness? No, that can't be right. Someone was supposed to be there with him. Right?

Murmurs floated into audibility and were gone just like a whisper. Was he awake? His eyes lulled, spinning and twisting the already deformed reality around him. He droned off, feeling a loss of balance as he slipped into vertigo. Piercing screeches rang through his ears again, from another location. Where? Nowhere. He felt a pressure released from his right leg for a fleeting moment before it was applied again, yet softer and gentler than before.

He closed his eyes for the second time.

Quinn got up, a searing pain in her back greeting her as she awoke. She winced, stumbling and almost falling back to the ground before catching her fall with her arm. Valor squawked and darted to her as he noticed her wake up. Gathering herself again, she slowly raised herself up from the ground without moving her back.

The sunlight had already filled the room completely. If she remembered correctly, it would have been at least three hours she had been laying there since she was knocked out almost the right moment they got here. She remembered who was travelling along with her and Valor, and turned around to see the swordsman curled up on the floor, clothes torn and soaked in blood. What had actually happened? She got up and observed the setting.

Three feet from her laid a blood-soaked dagger, which she presumed was what inflicted the wound in her back. If he wasn't the one who threw the dagger, Yasuo must have patched up the wound for her, since she wasn't lying in a puddle of blood, which was a good sign. It didn't seem to be him, as outside the door lie a set of footsteps and a trail of blood following them. She looked back at Yasuo, observing the tourniquet on his right leg, and compared it to the retreating trail with blood marking a trail on the left. So there was another one here who seemed to get away.

She got up and looked at the surroundings of the room, bookshelves and tables knocked over and broken, while scattered papers and blood stained the floor. Thankfully Yasuo managed to fend off whoever attacked them during that skirmish, else they'd both be another statistic for the assassin. She looked down and noticed a cloth bandage wrapped around her to cover the wound on her back, which seemed to come from Yasuo's garb.

Quinn looked back at him, and noticed that the knot on the makeshift tourniquet on his leg fashioned out of his belt wasn't tight enough due to its thickness, and had started to seep out blood. She looked around the room for something she could use, as Valor landed on one of the tables on the upper floor with dining cloths on it. He clawed it and swooped down, dropping the cloth to Quinn. It never ceased to amaze her how observant and reliable he was.

"Thanks, Val," she praised as he landed on her shoulder, Quinn stroking his side. She kneeled down, gently untying the thick blood-stained rope, and lying it aside as blood trickled down the cut. She quickly wrapped the white cloth around his leg, firmly but gently tying a knot opposite the wound. The cloth was immediately soaked a deep red.

Quinn got up and sat down at the table with the assassin's documents in them, her turn to wait for the swordsman to wake up. She looked again at the papers that were still on the table, portraits of important-looking targets with black X's sprawled over their faces. As she did with every assassin she encountered, she gave a quick scan for signs of her brother's face.

Of course, nothing.

That moment, he stirred, eyes in a daze as he brought his hand to his head in aching, electrifying pain. "Where the hell..." he murmured in apparent confusion as he tried to take in his surroundings. He got up on his non-injured knee, panting with his head averted down, eyes closed as he recovered from his delirium. After a few deep breaths, he finally exhaled and slowly opened his eyes to find Quinn zoned out, somberly staring at scattered paper on the table with blank eyes, colder than his own.

She broke her daze and finally noticed Yasuo awake, and looked at him curiously. "So, mind telling me what happened?"

He ran his hand up through his long hair and gathered his thoughts. "All I remember is another person trying to kill me. Nothing significant enough for me to remember specifics, sorry."

"An Ionian?"

"Didn't look like one," he recalled, remembering the night purple bladed cloak the man was wearing. Quinn pulled out a drawer at the desk she was sitting at, eyebrows raising as she noticed something of interest. She reached in, revealing a map of the immediate area around them along with what looked like scrabbled military stratagem marking the paper. She picked up the map and got up to leave the house, nudging Yasuo.

"You good to go?" Quinn asked, observing the visibly injured swordsman. "Time doesn't wait for anyone," she added. Yasuo simply nodded, slowly getting up from the chair and walking out the door with a painful hobble. Quinn followed closely behind him.

She rounded the corner, looking for the smallest wall she could scale. While not the shortest, a wall presented itself with a windowsill she could use for a hold. She handed the map to Valor who swiftly perched upon the roof. "Mind giving me a hand?" she asked, gesturing for Yasuo to boost her up. He rolled his eyes, slightly annoyed, and gave her a foothold to jump off of. He had saved her life already, how many more favors could she want? Maybe it was time to part ways, he'd been doing fine by himself and he'll be fine by himself once more. He walked back and sat down, leaning against the wall, letting out a long yawn.

Concrete and crumbled brick trickled down on Yasuo like a light drizzle as she clawed her way to the roof of the house. She unscrolled the map, surveying the location around her to try to determine exactly where they were. If she read correctly, they were ten miles west of the outskirts of the main Noxus city-state where her target was, a member of Noxus' infamous Crimson Elite. Not too far now. She scrawled a few notes on the map and leaped back down to the ground, startling Yasuo.

"Crimson Elite. Heard of them?" she asked Yasuo in hopes of getting some information she didn't have. His heart skipped a beat as his eyes widened. He's definitely heard of them.

"Yeah. What do you know about them?"

"Not much, except the fact that my target is a part of it. Or so I was told. I was hoping you'd know more about them than me."

"Nope, all I know is there's someone associated with them who I think may be at the root of my problems," he mused, remembering reading about a member who had used wind techniques to cut down wave after wave of Demacians and Ionians alike.

"Hunting him down?"

"I'm pretty sure it's a 'her', but yes. And I wouldn't say hunting, everyone's been doing more than enough for me. I'd call it shedding blood to make sure the blood already shed isn't wasted." Quinn smiled, remembering his monologue.

"So what are we waiting for?"


End file.
